A Reminder From Me To You
by The-Sky-Is-Forever
Summary: "When Cas was saving Dean from hell they fell in love but when dean resurfaced he didn't remember any of it and Cas has been subtly trying to remind him ever since." Idea taken from a tumblr post by deanfucker (who is amazing).


Headcanon: When Cas was saving Dean from hell and restoring his soul they fell in love but when dean resurfaced he didn't remember any of it and Cas has been subtly trying to remind him ever since.

**-Earth (present day)-**

Staring at that familiar soul, Castiel, angel of the Lord, cannot believe what he is seeing. And it's causing him so much pain. How can someone who used to look at you with such love now stand before you with a look of blank unawareness, even verging on hatred and maybe even fear? It felt to Cas as though only minutes had passed that they had last kissed, since they had last touched. Since they had been in love. Deeply, irrevocably and unalterably. Or so he had thought. But here he was, masking the pain in his deep blue eyes, staring at the man he thought he could never lose. And the man was looking back at him like they had never met.

And so Castiel introduced himself to Dean Winchester as though it were natural that he wouldn't know him -why would he?- and he kept his voice level and his feelings hidden.

**-In Hell (40 years ago/four months ago depending on how you view it)-**

"Save me, save me, SAVE ME!" Dean screamed at the walls of his cage. Slamming his hands against the bars and rattling his chains, thrashing about violently, he only increased the agony being caused by his torture. His skin was torn, shredded. Wearing almost nothing his entire body was exposed to the varying temperatures -the searing heats and the bone-chilling coldness- of Hell and exposed to the excruciating tortures of... Alistair. Nearing his wits' end he was screaming. Crying out to be saved. Praying that someone was listening. He had given up on Sam, God, everyone. However something was making him beg for help today. He needed to be saved. So he didn't care that Alistair was stood only meters away laughing at him; he didn't care that others in cells near-by were also watching him; he didn't care how he looked. He just wanted to be saved. Or to die. Properly.

**-In Heaven (same time as in Hell)-**

"You have to let me go save him, Michael." Castiel pleaded. "It is in Heaven's best interests to rescue this man." He added.

Michael and Raphael stared down at their younger brother with cool regard. "You are not strong enough for this mission, Castiel." Michael responded.

"I am. And even if I am not, I am the only one willing." Castiel insisted, he widened his eyes slightly and leant forwards trying to convey his urgency in his body language and words, letting go of himself accidentally.

Michael glanced at Raphael. They were both thinking the same thing: the _child_ in front of them, while willing, was not the right choice. He cared too much. And yet they both knew he was the only choice. Maybe Castiel's caring could be an advantage. Raphael paused. Then, "Okay."

Castiel's body heaved in relief, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself uniform for appearance sake, "Thank you." He breathed. "You will not regret this."

"Do not disappoint us, Castiel." Raphael said heavily.

"I won't." Turning on his heel the young angel fled their gaze; fully aware that time was of the essence.

**-Earth (present day)-**

As the days passed and Dean still didn't look at Cas with anything less than a vague mistrust, Castiel began to lose faith. All hope he had of being with Dean in _that way_ was rapidly fading. And it hurt. It hurt so much that Cas wished he weren't living.

To make it worse he had Michael and Raphael and others telling him that either it was for the best or that it was his own fault for thinking it could ever work. He had begged, pleaded, with higher authority to attempt to restore Dean's memories of him but to no avail. No one would help him. No one cared. And the few that did didn't understand how Dean could have lost those memories let alone try to bring them back to him. The only advice Castiel had received was to give it time. The rest had scoffed and turned their heads, insisting that his "obsession" had to end and that this "love" should not exist.

Cas was alone. And his beloved Dean did not know him.

**-In Hell, Dean (I don't know when exactly; it's all rather complicated. Just think chronologically. Although that doesn't really work but I'm sure you're clever enough to work it out)-**

There had been whispers. Rumours. Spreading throughout Hell. Breaching the screams of anguish and pain. Talk of an angel.

At the beginning Dean had dismissed them as idiocy. Ramblings of some person driven insane from being torn to shreds on a daily basis. Until he overheard Alistair saying something. As Dean writhed in pain, wrists and ankles bound, blood pouring from his body, he heard his torturer saying something to another demon as he took a slight pause.

_The angel is here for the Winchester boy._

Dean froze, panting slightly, eyes widening. Was there really an _angel_ on its way? To save him? 'No,' He thought. 'Angels are not real. Are they?'

Spitting blood from his mouth he tried to speak up, all he could manage however was one word, "Angel?" He croaked.

Alistair turned back to him, eyes pure white glaring at him. "What did you say?" He hissed, stepping forwards wielding one of his favoured weapons of torture.

Dean mustered some of his bravery and managed to get the word out again, "Angel?"

"What do you know about the angel?" The demon asked.

It was true. There really was an angel. Dean grinned weakly. It wasn't a guarantee... But it was something. It was hope. He didn't answer Alistair, instead choosing to shut his eyes tight and brace himself for the next wave of agony. He didn't have to wait long.

**-In Hell, Castiel (Same time as the Dean one)-**

The demon slouched against the wall, moodily. "Man, this is stupid. What are we doing here?"

"It's our orders so suck it up. Would you rather you were tied back to that rack being ripped apart?" The other demon barked at him.

"Okay, point. But what if this angel-thing _does _show up? We're probably gonna get ourselves killed."

The second demon didn't even bother replying; instead she rolled her eyes and stood a little straighter.

Castiel stalked down the oddly lit hall in Hell, ignoring the cries of "Help me" from either side of him. His angel blade was tucked away, ready to be drawn at a heart-beat if it came in necessary.

As he rounded a corner he heard a low conversation, curiosity peaked he edged closer.

A female voice cut over that of a man's, "We have to guard this corridor, okay? So quit your moaning."

"Why this one though?"

"I don't know, do I? Something about some guy that Alistair has an interest in. Winchester or something." She answered, bored.

Castiel straightened up. Winchester. Sneaking forwards, Castiel turned a corner and found himself face to face with two demons.

**-Earth (now)-**

Crestfallen, Castiel stared at Dean, attempting to remind him. Trying to convey all the memories mentally.

Snoring softly, Dean was unaware of Castiel's desperation (or even his presence). He shivered slightly in his sleep and Cas half leant forwards before restraining himself; he knew if he touched Dean it would only cause the man to freak out and, possibly, send him away. His hand hovered in the air briefly before falling to his side once more. Vanishing in a flutter of wings he felt more alone than he had ever felt before.

**-Hell, Dean (continuation of the last Dean extract)-**

It had been months since he had heard of the angel, some said that he was still on his way but Dean had given up. This only made the torture feel so much worse. He screamed in agony as Alistair twisted the blade deeper into him.

"Want to get off the rack, Dean?" Alistair yelled over Dean's shouts. "Do you give in?"

Dean spat some blood in the demon's direction as a way of answering.

"On your head be it. Let me know if you change your mind." Alistair grinned.

Dean wanted more than anything to say 'yes' but he wouldn't let himself. He refused to sink that low. And so, he stayed there, tied to the rack, screaming himself hoarse in pain and Alistair cut him open day after day, month after month, year after year.

And then, one day, when it had all become too much and Dean felt as though he would go insane if he didn't get a break, he said it. That one little word. It tore out of him in an unleashed wail, screeching, screaming, pleading. "YES!" He screamed, "YES, YES, YES! I'LL DO IT."

Alistair peered down at him, a sneer formed on his face. "Sorry? You'll do... what, exactly?" He asked, relishing his victory.

"I'll torture them. I'll torture anyone. Just get me off this rack." Dean begged, hating himself as he said the words. Tears were in his eyes but, no matter how guilty he felt about it, the strongest emotion was relief. As two of Alistair's dedicated demons unbound him he felt so relieved. He was getting off the rack. He wasn't going to be tortured any longer. It was over.

"Don't be afraid to get creative." Alistair hissed in Dean's ear as they stood over a woman's body. She was almost naked, tied down to a table, mouth gagged and her eyes wide in fear. She wasn't crying. Not yet.

Dean picked up a blade. It was small, delicate even, and yet it looked deadly and precise. Placing the point down on the top of her arm he pressed down, hard, and dragged it through her skin leaving a trail all the way from her shoulder to her wrist. A scream tore from her, muffled slightly by the gag. Dean couldn't help the wave of satisfaction he got from that sound.

"That's my boy." Alistair leered over his shoulder.

Dean had to fight the grin that was steadily working its way onto his face. He picked up a bottle of something and poured it onto the cut -he didn't know what it was exactly, all he knew was that it hurts like a bitch poured onto an open cut. That knowledge came, unfortunately, from experience. The stranger screamed in agonising pain.

As he worked her over, cutting, slicing, shredding her skin, he began to enjoy it more and more.

And he hated himself for it.

**-In Hell, Castiel (same as Dean time)-**

Castiel stumbled to a stop, spinning round he started wildly in all directions. Where the Hell was he? Having slaughtered pretty much every demon in this God forsaken place he was now, only now, realising that the real problem was the never ending labyrinth of screaming, tortured souls. He started as a young man threw himself at the bars on a cell. The man's eyes were wide, slightly hopeful but mainly expressionless. A small, blank smile was working its way onto the man's lips as he began to speak in a monotonous stream of words. "George? I knew you'd come and save me. They told me I was wrong. I knew you'd come. I knew it. I love you. I knew you'd come..."

Castiel backed away, shaking his head, "I'm not your George." He tried to explain over the man's ramblings. As he turned and continued away he could hear the man calling after him, "George, where are you going? George come back!" At his yells a chorus of cries sprang up from the surrounding cells, people crying out for loved ones or just for someone to save them. Castiel's heart pulled, wishing he could save them all, but he knew that they were here for a reason and that he could only save one. And that had to be Dean. He continued on down the corridor, following his instincts.

**-In Hell. Dean (a while on as you will work out)- **

The blood dripped from his fingers in an unstoppable flow of the man's pain. The man, Dean neither knew nor cared what his name was, screeched out, shredding the air like Dean's blade in his skin. No words were being formed, except for the occasional "STOP" and Dean relished in his inability to beg.

"What shall we try next?" Dean whispered, teasingly, hauntingly, as he leant in close, mouth almost touching the wrecked man's ear. "Perhaps some fire? A little _burning _might do you some good." His voice was low, verging on seductive as he continued to murmur threats of pain into his victims mind.

Dean pulled away as Alistair stalked into the room, a proud smirk upon his face. "Dean," the demon began, "How about we give this gentleman a break and you can work on our new… _friend._"

Brow creasing in confusion, Dean followed him out of the cell with a promise to be back thrown over his shoulder at the man who lay shaking in a mixture of distress, relief and dread.

As Alistair and Dean entered the room the man that was strung up stiffened, eyes widening. "Dean Winchester?" He asked. Alistair frowned and Dean stopped short. The man's piercing blue eyes gazed at Dean with something that was close to disappointment.

Dean stormed across, scraping up a knife as he went and stabbed it straight into the blue-eyes man's stomach, "How do you know who I am?" He demanded.

"I-." The man stuttered, confused. "I'm here to rescue you."


End file.
